


Gorillaz One-Shots

by shiverfawkes



Category: 2doc - Fandom, Gorillaz
Genre: 2doc - Freeform, Angst, Anxiety, Comfort, Depression, FtM!2D, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attack, Self Harm, Shameless Smut, Smut, Transitioning, trans 2d, transgender character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-19 07:38:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12405966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiverfawkes/pseuds/shiverfawkes
Summary: Just a collaboration of One-Shots because I'm far too gone and need somewhere to shit post.Some of them I may use for actual story plots later on, I don't know.Tags will be added.





	1. Coming clean (trans!2D)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An intervention is had, confessions were made, and an apology was nearly given
> 
> |trigger warning|self harm|

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a representation of all trans men and some things might offend certain people, but writing it as a trans man myself I don't think anything written is offensive however I could just be too laid back

Stuart Pot, had not always been his name. He preferred not to talk about those days though, they weren't too fun for him, he often felt out of breath and dizzy from even thinking about the past. At the age of ten, he took his stand and declared that Stuart was his name and he lived by that, correcting anybody and everybody who said otherwise.

He was lucky he did so _when_ he did, as later on he spiralled into an anxious being of self-deprication and wouldn't have had the guts as a teenager to correct anyone.

Luckily his parents weren't too bothered, they called him Stuart and treated him as a son, which did help a lot with his mental state. His mother was more worried about his migraines than anything else, handing him endless packets of Paracetamol, slowly pushing him into dependency.

However, a lot of things changed when he got hit in the face with a car, that fateful day. A car belonging to Murdoc Niccals. 

The satanist was completely unaware that Stuart was not cisgender, seeing as all he really cared about was drinking, impressing chicks, and kidnapping people to be in his bands.

It had been quite a while since that had happened. And Stuart had now abandoned his old life, living with his parents, going to the town SRC to get his BTEC, and working in that dingy music shop downtown.

But with abandoning his old life, there were quite a few problems.

The main one being that none of his other band members knew about his past. He wasn't on testosterone shots, leaving his voice quite high, and he hadn't had any of the surgeries either. 

So baggy t-shirts and binders it was, silently praying that no event would happen in which it would be revealed he was wearing one underneath. Nobody seemed to notice how high his voice was, he'd been teaching himself to lower it from the age of fourteen after all, and the smoking helped somewhat in that aspect. They all bought the socks-in-the-boxers trick, and his terrible boyish posture did some good in convincing them.

But then, the next problem came each month. When Mother Nature would send her greetings in the form of a Niagara Falls of blood, and pain, Stuart's only option was to hide away. He locked the door of his room and refused to come out, barely eating and taking too many of his painkillers to try and numb the dysphoria.

This worried his other band mates, Russel would leave his meals sitting on a stool outside his door, Noodle would try to convince him to let her come in. 

But Murdoc? Murdoc did nothing.

As difficult as it may be to imagine, the bassist had an odd charm to him, and once Stuart came out of his catatonic state, he had managed to form somewhat of a crush through all the brain damage.

A crush that would soon take over his entire state of mind, even through all the abuse that Murdoc gave him. So the fact that he had done nothing to help 2D ever, only made things worse. 

Slowly the emotions that happened every month, began to bleed, no pun intended, into daily life. He became more reclusive, less happy with himself, forever putting himself down for not being better than he was. Then they were no longer just emotions, they were demons eating at his every thought.

No matter how hard he tried, he would never be good enough

Unfortunately for him, he wasn't careful enough with how he was treating himself. So when he slipped down into the kitchen with a t-shirt on, things went tits-up for the blue haired boy. And when Noodle saw the pink lines on his arms, that's when an intervention was had.

They'd assembled a 'family' meeting, and everybody was called to attention in the main room of the house.

"Alright, D, you need to explain what the fuck is going on." Russel said, they were sat around the living room, Stuart on the armchair and the other three on the sofa. Russel had his arms crossed as he spoke, Noodle played with her fingers as she stared st the floor, and Murdoc leaned against the arm chair looking unamused.

"I-I'm fine, Russ." He managed to stammer out, forcing a smile. He was slouched forward, his arms crossed in attempt to hide the gashes. "It's all good."

The American looked displeased with that answer. "Look, we're worried about you. Even Murdoc is starting to get concerned." He said, and Stuart raised his eyebrows. Murdoc had noticed? He cared enough to see? 

"Hold your arms out. Show them..." Noodle said, sniffling slightly. 

The bassist and the drummer looked at him expectantly. So reluctantly he held them out, exposing the scars, the fresh cuts and the healed ones. 

Noodle started to cry at the mere sight of them, and Stuart's stomach dropped, he felt his face heating up and tears start to form in his own eyes. He quickly dropped his arms to his sides and stood up, nearly falling over as his head tried to catch up with the movement of his body.

"I'm sorry." He whispered before bolting from the room, heading straight for his own, slamming the door and sinking down the the ground as he collapsed into sobs. 

"You stupid fucking git. Look what you've done." He choked out, talking to nobody but himself. "They think you're a freak now." His voice faded to a whisper as he stared at the floor, tears still falling from the black abyss' of his eyes. He'd hurt Noodle. Of all people he'd hurt her, destroyed what little respect she may have had for him, and he'd made her cry. What kind of heartless bastard does that?

About an hour passed, of him staring at nothing and insulting himself, allowing himself to fall further into the self deprecating prison that was his mind. Then there was a knock on his door.

"Go away Russ!" He yelled, his voice cracking through the choked sobs. He couldn't bare anybody seeing him right now, and speaking to the drummer was not in his priorities. Opening the door would probably end in him getting smacked across the room for hurting his "baby girl".

"You wound me, Dents." An English accent rang throughout his ears. The bassist was on the other side of the door. He froze up, tensed, unsure of what to do. "Now let me in or Satan help you, I will break this door down." He said, his voice commanding and Stuart reluctantly stood up, and undid the locks of his door.

He opened it to see Murdoc, looking moody as ever, his mismatched eyes burning into 2D's black ones. To his surprise and mild fear, the bassist closed the door behind them, leaving only the dim light of the computer and what little was getting through the blinds.

"Explain." He spoke, leaning against the desk, as Stuart sat on his bed, staring at the floor, without saying a word, hoping he could get away with it and that the older man would storm out eventually. " _Now,_ Dents." 

"I dunno what you want me to say..." His voice was quiet. "I took the blade, I cut myself to bits, I made Noodle cry." 

"Why'd you do it?" Murdoc asked, his tone wasn't the usual gravelly bark that he spoke in, that made the blue haired boy flinch and tense up. It was calmer and had a small hint of concern woven through it.

"I'm not good enough." He murmured, inaudible to anybody but himself, avoiding eye contact with the bassist. 

The satanist rolled his eyes. "I'm getting old, Dents. Speak up." 

"I'm not good enough." He said, louder that time, clenching his hands into fists. "I'm not a good example for Noodle, half my life depends on painkillers, I've smoked my lungs to death, I can't sing well half the time, and I'm not even a real man!" He was shouting now, tears slipping down his cheeks.

Murdoc stared at him, eyes wide, absolutely gutted with what the singer was saying about himself, unable to believe that those were actual thoughts that ran through his head. The last point stuck with him though, reminded him of the insults his father used to throw at him, to make him feel powerless. 

He knew he was a dickhead to the blue haired man but was he really so harsh? Did he drive Stuart to do this to himself?

He bit his lip. "What do you mean you aren't a real man? You're just as real as any other bloke I've met." He said, looking at 2D quizzically.

Stuart sighed, his breath shaky. He knew that this time would come sooner or later, either that or he'd be dead, and even then they'd find out as his dead body was examined. But unsure of how to word the phrase, he knew his only choice was to just show Murdoc, and that's what scared him most, he was going to be more exposed than he'd ever been in his life. 

"Promise you won't go mental?" He whispered, glancing up through his messy hair, to see Murdoc nod in response.

He took a deep breath before pulling his shirt over his head, revealing the camo green of his binder underneath. He could feel his face heating up, and his shoulders raise as he grew uncomfortable. Not even his parents had seen him like this before. He could practically feel the mis-matched eyes of the bassist burning into his skin as he was sat there, the lines on his arms in plain sight, as well as the ones on his stomach but most of all the thing that gave him hope was now the thing ripping it away from him.

Noticing that Murdoc was clearly at a loss for words, he decided to try and explain as much as he could before he broke down any further.

"I-It's a binder.. It compresses my chest to make me look like a man. I've been wearing them since I was thirteen. Stuart only became my name when I was ten..." He started to panic when Murdoc didn't reply. "Look, I haven't been lying to you, Mudz, I'm still a man, still _Stuart_ , I just- I couldn't- I was scared you'd hate me even more.."

There was a few moments of silence, Murdoc trying to find the words to say, 2D anxious as to what his response would be.

"Look, Dents. I don't hate you, I never have. The shit that goes on in my messed up brain shouldn't effect you, and I shouldn't let it. I'm not sober enough to stop myself half the time. I didn't... I didn't realise that it was effecting you this bad, if I had've known I would've stopped. For as dopey as you are, I don't want you to off yourself in the middle of the night." He shifted on his feet, looking as boyish and anxious as 2D had ever seen him. If he knew Murdoc well enough, he knew that Murdoc didn't do apologies, and he knew that that was damn well as close to one as he was ever going to get.

Murdoc picked up the singers t-shirt, and threw it over to him, only realising that he was still uncomfortable. Stuart offered a weak smile to the older man as he pulled the shirt over his head. "Thanks." His voice was still quiet, and the anxious tension of the room still surrounded them.

Taking a breath in, Murdoc did something he'd never done before, and quite frankly didn't think he'd ever get the opportunity to do. He pushed off the desk and sat down beside Stuart, pulling him into a hug, pressing a kiss to his neck, and for once nothing more. 

He felt the singer gripping his jumper, choking out sobs into the bassists shoulder, repeating the words "I'm sorry" again and again.

Murdoc kept him in his arms, when any other time he would have pushed the younger man off him, but if they were coming clean he supposed he should too. "And no matter what you have downstairs, or in your head, you're still mine. My singer. My front _man_. Mine."

  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning | panic attack

Murdoc Niccals was out there, practically insane. Whether you knew about his rough past or that he was a Satanist, or the trouble and abuse he put his fellow bandmates through, you knew he was bad news.

Even if you didn't know anything about him, just looking at him you know he's trouble. His inverted cross, broken nose, mismatched eyes and green skin may be a few indicators but his attitude and speech really seal the deal. He has an aura of confidence not many can match, a reputation that nobody could beat and birds and blokes hanged off his arms everywhere he went, begging him for more.

However what nobody knew about Murdoc Niccals, was that he had anxiety. Nobody saw that behind closed doors, when he sloped off to his winnebago, when everybody was too scared to open his door for fear that he was shitfaced drunk, he was actually crying on the floor, shaking as the thoughts that filled his head wracked his body with grief.

Nobody saw that he couldn't move most nights, due to the shaking, his knees unable to support him as they went weak.

Nobody saw that most nights, he didn't drink himself to unconsciousness, but he collapsed crying, until he passed out.

Nobody saw any of this, for years he was able to hide it, until somebody had the balls to enter his room after him. 

That somebody, unsurprisingly, was Stuart pot.

\-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

Stuart was jittery, he'd been writing and rewriting the letter for weeks. He was usually quite good with words, with speaking aloud but for something like this he could never find the confidence within himself to say it in person. So, letter it was.

It seemed childish at first but after so many rewrites the singer knew he had to do it or it would all be for nought. 

Feelings came easy for Stuart, some could consider it too easy, as after he came out of his catatonic immobility, it didn't take long for him to fall headfirst for the bassist. As nasty and cold-hearted as Murdoc came across at times, Stuart was probably the only one who'd ever seem him at his best, when he was feeling, and almost compassionate toward people. This made it hard, even through all the abuse, to abandon his feelings and he continued to fall deeper into the abyss.

Even when he was dating Paula, nothing ever felt right, and after she dumped him he was almost relieved.

So as he stood outside the bassist's door, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, trying to bring himself to knock, the only thing rushing through his mind was the answer he'd be given.

He'd prepared for the worse, told Russel to check up on his room to make sure he wouldn't do anything extreme in a fit of rage or sadness. He'd even allowed the drummer to take his meds out of his room, because he was likely to act on instinct, and knew for a fact that the bassist was not worth taking his life over.

He ran a hand through his dishevelled blue hair and took a breath before knocking on the door of the Winnebago. 

No answer. 

That was odd. he'd seen Murdoc leave after band practice that evening, he shouldn't be anywhere else. Now that he paid more attention, he noticed that the music was quiet, not loud like usual, so there was no way he couldn't have heard the knock. 

He rapped against the door again, with more force. This time he knew for certain that the bassist had to have heard him. 

Still no response

"Murdoc?" He called out, his voice the cracking cockney accent it had always been, and he cringed to himself as it sounded so boyish and fearful. 

Again, no answer was to be had.

Now things were beginning to get worrying, in the past there would have been an angry "Fuck off!" or the door would open forcefully, slamming into Stuarts face and he'd scramble back to his room, avoiding anymore swings or scratches from the Satanist.

Breathing in again, Stuart prepared for the worst, and slowly pushed down the handle of the door, pulling it open. His shoulders were raised unsure and uncomfortable, and he stepped inside. 

The lights were off, but through the dim, Stuart could just about make out the figure of a human.

Murdoc was sat, leaning against the bed unit, his knees hugged to his chest and his face buried in them, his entire body shook, and he was very noticeably crying. For somebody who perpetually radiated confidence and pride, this was the smallest Stuart had ever seen him. Even when he was drunk and falling over, and Stuart had to carry him to bed, trying to avoid waking anybody up, he still seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

"Mudz?" He asked quietly, slowly approaching the older man, he managed to get himself sitting crossed legged in front of him, and shook him slightly.

As if he'd been electrocuted, the bassist's head shot up, and he tried to move back, breathing heavy, his movements frantic. "Stay back!" He shouted out, covering his face and flinching away from the singer.

Stuart stared in confusion, unsure of what to do or say, he wasn't sure of what to do to help the bassist, and instead could only wait until he looked up from his hands. When he did so, his mismatched eyes widened and he coughed.

"F-Face-ache? The hell are you doing in here!?" He attempted to shout, tried to force all the anger he could into his voice but his stammering and the cracking of his voice from crying devalued it all.

"I wanted to talk to you about something- are you okay?" Stuart cut himself off before he could start rambling, and instead decided to focus more on what was happening right now. 

"Do I f-fucking look okay?" Murdoc snapped, avoiding the singers gaze.

The blue haired man, shook his head an looked down. "Well, no.."

"Good observation there Einstein." 

"You're still shaking." Stuart pointed out.

The Satanist groaned, folding his arms. "Oh really? I d-didn't fucking realise. Can't you just fuck off?" 

Stuart frowned, now noticing the redness of Murdoc's eyes, paired with the shaking, it seemed way out of character for the bassist. He couldn't remember a time when Murdoc had ever been in a state like this, the way he was acting seemed more accurate for the blue haired man's own image, perpetually anxious and upset.

"Well, no.. You're having a panic attack." He stated the obvious as the signs clicked, no matter how well Murdoc was managing to act, Stuart knew all the tricks in the book. 

"Y-You don't know anything!" Murdoc barked, and the singer winced, he'd hit a nerve clearly. "Just get the hell out you stupid bastard!" His breathing had quickened as he realised he couldn't hide it anymore, Stuart would tell Russel and Noodle, and they'd know, they'd see him as weak, they wouldn't take him seriously.  

Stuart didn't move, trying to deduce what was going on in the bassist's head, trying to think of something he could do to help or calm him down. He knew when he was panicking, music helped, but the fast paced rhythms in all the songs Murdoc had playing weren't doing him any favours. Sometimes writing down what had caused it and figuring out why, helped him, but the bassist wouldn't like doing that. The only thing he could really think of doing was singing _to_ the Satanist, like his mum had sung to him when he was nervous or had a migraine.

He stood up and turned the speaker off, much to the protesting of Murdoc himself, before his cut himself off with further hiccupped sobs. 

"You're probably gonna slag me off later for this but it's the only thing that I know." He said quietly, before sitting down beside the older man. 

Stuart had sang in front the bassist before, it was his job after all, but for some reason this felt different. Reluctantly, he managed to shake off the thoughts of the ill effects this would have for him when Murdoc came back around and wracked his brains for good songs to sing.

With no other songs coming to mind than the unfinished lyrics he'd been writing as of late, he decided just to go with it.

" _A bleak existence, consumed by hollow goals, sittin' in the back seat, the drivers lost control._ " He sang the words out softly, and kept going through the doubts he was having. Slowly but surely the bassist's breathing began to slow, and just as he got to the chorus he felt Murdoc lean against him, still hiccupping,

" _You can rain on me, you can rain on me, but you cannot rain forever. You can rain on me, you can rain on me, but I'll be holding on, for summertime_." He finished off, and leant against the bassist.

They sat like that on the floor of the Winnebago, with no other sound than their own breathing. It was nice to just co-exist there, in that moment, rather than the perpetual negativity of their relationship. The younger man wasn't sure whether Murdoc appreciated it as much as he did, but at least he hadn't kicked Stuart out. 

"It's scary, Dents. Shaking so much you feel like you'll never stand up again. My dad he's gone, and I know he is but he's still in my head." He spoke after a while. "And I'm stuck in the memories, he'd beat me down and kick me when I was shaking on the floor unable to move for satans sake. I hate it. I never want to feel it but it always comes back to haunt me. And the worst of it is that I do the exact same thing to you. And yet you're still here... You've got some bloody patience, Dents." Stuart smiled at that, taking in a deep breath.

"I'm just terrible at saying no I think." He cracked a smile at the bassist who gave him a small one back. 

The older man let out a shaky breath. "Good lyrics by the way. Sadder than usual I guess, but good." He spoke quietly. "You're a good listener, Stuart. I'm not usually one to pour my heart out."

"I noticed." The bluenette replied. "I know you don't like therapy or whatever, but maybe come to me. Crying on the floor isn't doing you no good." He laughed lightly and Murdoc elbowed him rolling his eyes.

"I may take you up on that offer."

"Hurrah I'm appreciated." Stuart replied with a lash of sarcasm.

"I do appreciate you... Quite a lot actually, if it weren't for you I'd belong to Satan or something, I'm just shit with emotions." He shrugged.

"I'm gonna do something stupid now..." The bluenette muttered and Murdoc raised an eyebrow. "You have to not get mad at me for it though." The bassist nodded.

With trembling hands, Stuart turned Murdoc's face so they were looking each other in the eyes, before cupping the back of the older man's head and placing his lips on the satanists own. It was softer than Stuart expected, warmer too, and he enjoyed the roughness of the older man's unshaven stubble grazing his face.

He pulled away shyly and stared at the ground, his face burning. 

"Yeah, that was quite stupid." Murdoc replied. "Can you do it again?"

 

 


	3. Just smut, and some fluff for good measure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SIN SIN SIN
> 
> So I don't normally write smut so it mightnt be the greatest but when your current obsession is Murdoc Niccals, it truly can't be helped.
> 
> I also want to preface this work by saying that I lost and had to rewrite over half of this and I worked so damn hard on it.

The two of them were in Stuarts room on a late Tuesday evening, Murdoc was sitting between the singers gangly legs, his back pressed against the younger mans chest. Stuarts laptop was resting on Murdoc's legs, the screen illuminating them through the dim of the room surrounding them. They were watching some random zombie film that was on Stuarts hard-drive, but neither of them were really paying attention to it. 

Stuart was trying his hardest not to make any sound, as the small movements Murdoc made from time to time, created friction against the bulge in his boxers. He'd had a semi before the bassist was even in his room, and Murdoc was clearly hell bent on make it worse.

Murdoc was too busy enjoying how uncomfortable the singer was getting, under his touch. The heat of the younger man's crotch under him gave him more entertainment than the film playing. He was in control, and sweet Satan if he wasn't enjoying every second of it.

Eventually the younger man couldn't take it anymore, and let out a high pitched whine as the Bassist pushed himself upward slightly.

"Something wrong Dents?" The older man asked, sitting up and turning to face him, and Stuart flushed red, dropping his hands to cover his crotch. "Need help with something?" He was playing the oblivious act and Stuart knew it fine rightly.

They'd been together for a few months, and fucked plenty of times before that moment, but for some reason the singer always felt embarrassed when he was hard around the bassist, even more so when the cause of it was the bassist himself.

"You f-fucking bastard." Stuart breathed out shakily. "Couldn't keep it in your pants for a movie, could you?" He asked, almost angrily.

"I don't know what you're on about." Murdoc replied. "You're clearly the one struggling." Stuart rolled his eyes, wrapping a fist around the cross that adorned the bassists neck, and pulled him forward capturing him in a kiss, he generally wasn't one to be this demanding but the bassist had been teasing him all night.

Almost immediately Murdoc pushed off him and gave him a stare, a smile threatening to take over his serious expression. "Are you, insisting that I, Murdoc Niccals, am to engage in faggotry with you?" He asked, placing a hand to his chest in mock offense, in a tone that Stuart couldn't help but laugh at.

"Oh come off it." Stuart rolled his eyes. "Giving me a wank is your favourite pastime" Murdoc dropped the act and allowed a smirk to form on his face, kicking into gear, before pulling the younger man closer by the t-shirt, then pulling it off, kissing and biting gently at the bluenette's now fully exposed neck, savouring every noise that escaped the singers lips. He kept there his breath hot on Stuart's neck and his hands busy at the singers chest. He worked his way up to the singers jaw, making marks that would most definitely be questioned by their fellow band members, but considering how loud Stuart got it didn't matter anyway.

He knew very well that the singers neck was sensitive and the more he focused on it the more vocal Stuart would be which was all the more fun for him. He smirked as the singer's hand went underneath his shirt, his fingers grazing over the bassists nipples, trying to focus through the feeling of uncomfortableness as the hotness between his legs grew further.

The Satanist met Stuarts mouth once again, and without breaking contact he worked on getting the bluenette's jeans off, unbuttoning them and slipping them down along with his boxers, just enough to expose the singers member, which was throbbing and leaking with precum. Breaking the kiss, Murdoc admired it for a moment, naturally there were blue hairs, naturally but still nonsensical.

"You're so pretty like this bluebird, worked up and dripping just for me." He spoke softly, his voice sending shivers down the singers spine, grabbing the lube he knew Stuart kept under his bed, he started to stroke the younger mans cock, preparing to take it in his mouth but Stuart managed to find the words to stop him. 

"N-No- I-I want to ride y-you." He managed to stammer out through his own breathy moans, he pulled the bassists shirt over his head, and got to work on his jeans.

"So good to me aren't you love?" Murdoc growled, taking in a breath as his member was exposed to the sudden cold of the room around them, unable to prevent the moan that escaped his mouth as Stuart wrapped his mouth around the head of his cock, before pushing his head forward and taking the entire thing in his mouth, not an easy feat considering the size of the bassist. "F-Fuck Dents." 

Stuart pulled off with a satisfying pop, and smiled up at the older man. "Couldn't help myself..." He said quietly, a deep scarlet flushing his cheeks.

"You don't need prepped do you?" Murdoc asked, and the singer shook his head. "Prepared yourself and all, beautiful." 

Stuart coated the older man's member with lube, pushing him down on his back, taking some sort of control. He lowered himself down onto Murdoc, letting out a shaky breath as the older man's cock filled his hole, a satisfying burn even with the lube. He paused for a beat waiting for the older man's approval.

" _Move_." Murdoc ordered, not shouting but commanding him, with enough authority in his voice to make the younger man shiver. 

The singer began to bounce slowly, trying to contain the loud moans threatening to erupt from his throat. He kept going until pain turned into pleasure and bit his lip in attempt to silence himself. The older man couldn't help but groan with pleasure as the bluenette quickened his pace and thrust his hips up in time with the younger man, gripping the singer's hips so tight it was sure to leave a mark. Stuart was the best fuck he knew, even when the singer had fingered himself he was always tight, and hot, his movements slick, and the noises he made were like nothing else. He was better than any bird Murdoc had.

It was heated, frantic, unplanned but those always seemed to be the best, everything was unthought, subconscious. Everything was real.

Wrapping his hand around his cock, Stuart stroked himself in time with his own movements, allowing the pleasure to take over his thoughts as he listened to Murdoc moaning out encouragements to him.

"So damn pretty, Bluebird. Stroking yourself, taking my cock so well." He grunted, thrusting up into Stuart, enjoying the high pitched whimper escaping the singer's lips with each jolt. "Fuck- Satan, Dents I'm s-so close." He breathed out.

"Me too- I-" Stuart was cut off by his own whine as Murdoc thrust forcefully into him, hitting him right where it became ecstasy, making it more and more difficult to hold it in until the satanist gave him the word.

"Wait- I want you to turn around, face me, I want to stroke your pretty cock, I want to see your face as I fill you up with my cum." Murdoc growled and Stuart nodded weakly, stopping, and pushing himself up, feeling unusually empty, before shifting his position.

Murdoc smirked as the younger man moaned, from simply lowering himself back down on his cock, tilting his head back, before continuing where they left off. 

Almost subconsciously the singer had a white knuckle grip on Murdoc's cross, the other hand on his chest as Murdoc took the liberty of jacking off the younger man feeling him build up to climax under his touch, smirking at how hot and bothered he'd made him, red faced and whimpering with each fraction of movement. "Fuck- I'm gonna- Murdoc!" Surprisingly with that whine of the bassists name, he kept himself together, a mixture of pain and pleasure expressed on his face.

Murdoc smirked at the sight, ushering the phrase: "Cum for me, Bluebird." That was all Stuart needed to release, letting out sticky strings of white over the bassists chest, whimpering Murdoc's name, his grip on the necklace loosening as he let go. A split second later Murdoc himself came with a breathy moan.

Using what little effort he still had, Stuart managed to push himself up off the bassist, and lay down at his side not caring about the mess on the bedsheets he'd have to clean up later.He buried his face in the crook of Murdoc's neck, pressing a kiss to the bare skin for a few beats, always unsure of what do do once everything was done. The bassist smiled at that, and wrapped an arm around the singer's thin frame.

They lay like that for a while, the silence of aftersex glory filling the room. Stuart twirled the chain of Murdoc's necklace in his fingers and the satanist was left in the content state of being half asleep, listening to his and the younger man's breathing.

The fact that they were able to do this filled Stuart with pride, Murdoc never did this with any bird he'd had before the two were together. The moment he and whatever slag he'd picked up at the bar got off, he threw a fiver at her for the cab home and she got changed in the bathroom. He felt like he mattered at least, that he was the only one who got the luxury of laying there, bare, in the comfortable quiet of the late night, when the rest of the world was asleep.

"You're gonna have a hell of a time at band practice tomorrow." Murdoc broke the silence, speaking relatively softly. Stuart groaned knowing that even standing was going to be agony for him the next day, nevermind anything else. "Truly it is your own fault." He added with a laugh and Stuart huffed out a breath of air.

"Yeah, well remind me not to take your dick up my ass next time." He replied, which earned a grunt of disapproval from the bassist. "S'what I thought." 

The quiet came over the room, silence except for the breathing of the two men, and for once it was comfortable rather than the awkward that took over when the singer couldn't manage a reply or the bassist went too far with a 'playful' insult. 

It was nice more than anything else, and nice wasn't usually a word that belonged in the same situation as Murdoc Niccals. 

"Stuart?" 

The singer tensed up, gripping the cross with anxiety, Murdoc never used his actual name, he always called him 'Dents' or some other random nickname he managed to come up with. Usually when the bassist used his name it meant he had done something wrong.

"Y-Yeah?" He stammered out, still hiding his face in the crevice of the older man's shoulder, trying not to show that he was nervous about what was to come next, praying that today would not be the day that the older man threw him out, like all the other birds before.

"I think I'm in love with you." The bassist spoke, his tone more serious than Stuart had ever heard it. "God that's fucking terrifying." He whispered to himself, immediately regretting saying anything, as the fear of rejection set in. Reminding himself that Stuart was his longest commitment yet only made it more scary, that all the work and emotions he'd let resurface because of the singer could all be for nought depending on his response. 

The bluenette froze, that was the last thing he expected. Immediately, his goofy gap-toothed smile made its way into his face, and he pressed his lips to the satanists skin once more.

"I-I love you too." Stuart replied and he felt Murdoc breath out a sigh of relief, and allowed a small smile to etch its way in to his face. "Can I kiss you?" The singer asked quietly, tilting his head up to look at him and the satanist laughed.

"He asks after having my dick in his ass." The older man said with sarcasm written in his voice, turning over slightly to face the bluenette. "Dullard at his finest." He smirked, as Stuart burned scarlet

"Oh sod off." He replied, pulling the chain of the necklace and connecting their lips softly.

The rest of that night was spent in a half conscious daze, legs entangled under the covers as they pressed against each other for warmth and comfort, lazy kisses here and there, making sarcastic comments and repeating the phrase "I love you" too many times to count. 

In truth Stuart was the first person Murdoc had ever known himself to be in love with, he initially planned to do something more romantic than telling him after an unplanned, heated, fuck session, but the way it happened seemed much more his style anyway, gritty and to the point, unthought and honest like most of his words.

So when the singer eventually fell asleep, fist closed around the cross pendent of Murdoc's necklace, the bassist couldn't help but smile. And after enough debate, he slipped the chain off his own head and pulled it over the bluenettes own, before falling to unconsciousness himself. 


	4. Chapter 4

It was a relatively sunny day, Stuart lay atop the roof of Kong Studios, arm over his eyes, notepad and pen discarded at his side as he basked in the warmth of the sun. A rare occurrence in Essex, for the sun to be out and the air to be warm enough to lie in comfortably, without burning to a cinder.

The singer usually came up to the roof when he wanted an escape, or some peace and quiet. For as big as the building was, four was most certainly a crowd at times. Well, a _pair_ could be a crowd if Murdoc Niccals was one of them.

He'd been up trying to write lyrics but sadly nothing was coming to him, besides a headache, and he'd drawn a blank, taking a break and some painkillers before laying back and enjoying the weather.

Then he registered the door opening, and footsteps. Too heavy to be Noodle, too light to be Russ' and the signature click of the heel in a boot to be Murdoc. The singer didn't say a word, and instead had to hold himself back from groaning in annoyance. He'd come up here to get _away_ from the older man, after what happened the night before he doubted he'd ever want to face him again if it was an option.

Sadly it was not.

"Alright Stu'?" He asked, as he grew closer, his footsteps louder, practically begging Stuart to flinch with each step the older man took. He managed to keep silent, unmoving save for the rise and fall of his chest as he tried to keep a steady breathing pace.

"You're still mad at me then? I really don't understand why." Murdoc spoke, sitting beside the singer, who didn't respond. "I didn't think it was all that bad, I've most certainly done worse." He chuckled menacingly and Stuart lost his cool.

"You _glassed_ me Murdoc." He sat up abruptly, staring at the older man, his black eyes burning with anger. A fresh purple shiner of a bruise had formed at his hairline, along with the cuts, and the bassist almost winced at the sight.

"Well, _bottled,_ more like." The satanist replied and Stuart sighed. "I truly don't see why you're so angry." He did really, and after seeing it he could feel the guilt building up in his stomach, but Murdoc Niccals doesn't do sympathy, or fussing. 

"It isn't 1966 anymore Mudz, you can't just go around beating your lover like the old days." The blue haired man almost had a pout on his face at this point. "Must be a thing with your generation huh?" He smiled triumphantly as the older man grunted in annoyance.

"There isn't _that_ much of an age difference." He grumbled.

Stuart laughed. "Twelve years ain't that much now? Jesus you must have been a riot in sixth form, 'see that five year old there, he'll be in my band one day.'" He imitated the older man who elbowed him jokingly and laughed.

"Yeah and if I mentioned anything about what we did last night I would have been filed for paedophilia." Murdoc replied, a smirk on his face as Stuart burned red.

"No, you'd have been seventeen."

"Yes, 'cause that's _so_ much better." The older man laughed, and Stuart laughed with him before frowning again, remembering that he was angry at the bassist. Murdoc noticed his expression and rolled his eyes. "What can I do to make it up to you then?"

"Well an apology would be a great start." 

"And a wank for a great end?" The older man replied with a smirk, and the singer rolled his eyes.

"Apology, _now_ , Murdoc." 

"I, Murdoc Faust Niccals, give you my dearest, sincerest apology, for hitting you with a bottle." He spoke, hand over his heart, and sarcasm laced in his tone.

The younger man sighed. "Properly."

"Sorry.." 

"Accepted."

"Big words for a cockney lad." Murdoc responded with a smirk.

"I ain't as brain-dead as you think." Stuart replied, laying back, allowing the sun to shine on his face. "'Sides, you're just as cockney as me."

"When in Rome." 

"We're in Essex, love."

"And he says he ain't brain-dead."

To the younger man's surprise, Murdoc lay beside him, the older man was never one to enjoy the sun, he was somebody who missed the forest for the trees, and never really cared about anything unless it would benefit him. But the longer he and Stuart were together, the blue haired man noticed him softening. His temper had cooled considerably since they'd started dating, if you could call it that, and he was less rude and abusive toward the younger man.

Which Stuart supposed is why last night hit so hard.

"What were you doing up here anyhow?" He asked quietly.

"Wanted an escape, bit of piece and quiet y'know?" The singer replied. "Hey look, that cloud looks like a frog." He pointed up and Murdoc rolled his eyes, almost wanting to laugh at the childlike antics of the younger man.

"You never grew up, did you, Dents?" He asked with a chuckle and Stuart shrugged, pushing some hair away from his eyes.

"I grew plenty, I'm taller than you ain't I?" The bluenette replied. 

The older man smiled a little before responding. "Growing taller and growing up are different things. I did one but not the other, I'd swap the two for anything really." He sighed, sitting up, and staring out over the barren wasteland that surrounded the building.

Stuart followed suit, dizzy from blood rush. "Well you didn't really have the choice I guess." He mumbled slightly.

"Anyway, let's have a look at this bruise then." Murdoc said quickly, trying to get off the topic of childhood, even though he was the one who'd brought it up.

The singer simply looked at him, and he sighed pushing some hair away from his forehead, revealing how bad it truly was. Cuts littered the skin and the bassist wouldn't be surprised if pieces of broken glass were still within the gashes.

Just looking at it, he could hear the drunken slurs of his father, he could feel the bottle against his own head, he could feel the pain that was once inflicted on him. The pain he'd caused to his lover.

Ignoring the hot tears that were now threatening to spill, he simply grabbed Stuart's hand, pulling him up and taking him back down into the main building. After rummaging through a medicine cupboard he managed to find a first aid kit. 

"Mudz, you alright?" The younger man asked, as the bassist sat him down on a chair in the kitchen, sitting opposite and rifling through the kit to find antiseptic in some form, knowing that the singer probably just took some painkillers and went to sleep after he'd hit him. Now he thought further about it the risk of concussion was very imminent and he had done nothing.

Sighing, as he pulled out a packet of antiseptic wipes, he tried to manage a reply. "It doesn't matter what condition I'm in, I've hurt you and now I have to take care of that." He choked out, knowing now that there were tears streaming down his cheeks but that Stuart wouldn't dare mention it.

The singer flinched back when the older man wiped the cuts, but tried to keep as still as possible, staying silent, staring at the bassist.

luckily there was no glass within the slashes, and with a couple plasters Stuart was okay.

 

 


End file.
